It hurts to ride.
Already after one hour my knee no longer moves, damn him.
I always go back home cracked, sore muscles, neck stretched, his back and smashed his knee that has dragged on. Then the cold .. A real madness. The next day catatonic
rest in silence on the wall of the railroad, crying to dispose of the adrenaline, fun and nostalgic thoughts for all those who have lost their importance. I would be ready to go back immediately.
rest in silence on the wall of the railroad, crying to dispose of the adrenaline, fun and nostalgic thoughts for all those who have lost their importance. I would be ready to go back immediately.
a ride, the only way for me to always answer YES.
Lower the visor, open the gas and let out the world around you, I see the smiles of those who are watching you, defames you or envy you, you remember when your heartbeat speeds up the motor.
Living emotions in speed, it sometimes happens that I feel (almost) sorry to have made certain requests. Of course, this exists only until I go down by a motor, then the mind removes every promise and moments later I'm ready to go back.
But when I'm in the saddle, at times, in those moments when the driver forgets to get behind the much-maligned "ballast" (or perhaps more simply by attempts to download) and you find yourself in the fold "ear earth, "I think of my mother that if she saw me finally losing my mind. And I think about my sister, who will never touch a bike and not even look at it from afar and above. And I also think the "Content" of the rider's helmet, which was probably left in the pits or perhaps it is drained away along the road to the first acceleration. And I think well of me, stubborn, unhappy and mad, that I persevere and betrays my good intentions forever.
Finally I think it's too late, for everything. I squeeze my knees and let go of thoughts.
What I never say is that I'm afraid. Fear of hurting me, that is not afraid to die but could no longer rise.
But what is all this?
There are many questions on this, extended to all those who speed and they risk their lifestyle. I want to mention, then, the comment of a friend followed by Nico Cereghini, taken from the forum of the House Cantoniera.
".. I find an article that speaks of real passion, not necessarily connected to the world of two wheels, the true passion and suffering that comes from the verb to suffer. In German, Leidenshaft is translated as passion, but leiden is to suffer, it is clear to them whenever you pronounce it, we have lost the etymology of the word beautiful because of English where passion is onomatopoeic for something hot and Latin , not to cold for which at times is irrational but wonderful fight.
not think about death.
It's not easy to explain what relationship they have with the risk drivers. Yet it must be done, because in the days following the horrific crash at Misano, where Shoya Tomizawa has been invested by the comrades who followed him in Moto2 and died from serious injuries, has heard and read everything. How do you now explain to those who already have his fair idea of \u200b\u200bsealed liquid and motorcycling as a sport of madmen and fools, and even unprepared? We try because we have broken all these censors. And then go as he goes.
Start by Valentino, who has said clearly: "You start to run as a child and the risk even think about it, then it happens to be evil, see the other drivers who end up in hospital or worse, then the fear becomes your friend: you need to better assess the risk for self-control, but just try not to think about death, otherwise forget it. "So said Rossi in dopogara.
Instead there who, out of our environment, is absolutely sure that risk is part of motorcycling. That is really our pleasure to go to defy death, to play with her. A race to stop , they cry. And do not refer to that particular race of Moto2 in San Marino at Misano, and the questionable decision not to expose the red flag, but of all races cars and motorcycles. And this is a stupid and short-sighted vision, because ignores the human passions. The name says it all: passion is to suffer, suffer. All the passions make terms with the suffering. Why the strong feelings are ambivalent: on one hand the search for happiness, the other the fear of losing it. The two are living together. Applies to the bike, love the game, for everything. And if you're there, if you do not want to risk suffering, then you are still a few chances: Do not remain you to get closer to Eastern religions and go in search of nirvana, that is the peace of mind.
Tell those fools who want to stop there. Who climbs the mountain, who parachute jump, those who dive into the ocean or across the sailboat, you climb into the ring, to stay within Sports: If it would be in a chair all day if he wanted to rule out the possibility of suffering. Just as he who loves with passion like that other as their lives and know how to risk a sea of \u200b\u200bsuffering, but does not stop for this, no barricades himself in home isolation. Let all the self-destruction? I think not, because then we must conclude that half mankind aspires to suicide.
discover new lands, inside and outside of us is a rush to life, not to the death. It 's simple: we love to ride because it multiplies our powers of terrestrial bipeds, ride a bike is a little' how to fly, jump as high, almost weightless. And then the bike is a great instrument that has a life of its own, pulsing and sing with us. They say: "But bikes can also be injured, die, you will not think about death?" and I say "No, I do not think. Why do you seem so strange? What are you doing?" You, too, sooner or later I should die, and then spends all day thinking about death? "
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